Page 50 of Bratva Prisoner
“Alyssa?”
Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the doorway and against a familiar chest. Maksim’s scent surrounds me—cologne and safety and something uniquely him that makes my racing heart begin to slow.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp against his shirt. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I got lost and—”
“Shh,” he murmurs as he strokes my hair. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
“I know. I just… seeing all those guns…”
He holds me out at arm’s length, watching me. “What aren’t you telling me about Troy?”
I consider deflecting, making light of the panic. But something about the way Maksim holds me—protective but not possessive, concerned but not demanding—makes the truth spill out.
“He had a gun,” I whisper against his chest. “The night I broke up with him. When I tried to leave, he… he pointed it at me.”
“He pointed a gun at you,” he repeats, his voice deadly quiet.
“I got away. Obviously. But for a minute there, I really thought he was going to…” I can’t finish the sentence.
“Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”
“No. I managed to talk him down and convince him I just needed space to think. Then I ran the moment he put the gun away.”
“And you’ve been running ever since,” he finishes for me. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Maksim—”
“He pointed a gun at you, Alyssa. At you. There is no world in which that goes unanswered.”
The rage in his voice should terrify me. Instead, it awakens responses I have no business feeling. This is exactly what I was afraid of—this intense, overwhelming pull toward a man who solves problems with violence.
“Don’t,” I manage, though whether I’m telling him not to hurt Troy or not to look at me like I’m his entire world, I’m not sure.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make me want this. Don’t make me want you when I know better.”
“You already want me.”
“That’s the problem.”
Before he can respond, before I can do something truly stupid like kiss him in his brother’s gun room, I push away from his embrace and flee toward the safety of voices and laughter and normalcy.
But even as I rejoin his family, I can feel his eyes on me, burning with promises I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist.
Chapter 15 - Maksim
The best way to make someone understand your world is to show them how it actually works, not just the violent parts that make headlines.
I watch Alyssa fidget with her coffee cup across the breakfast table. She hasn’t said much since she told me about Troy pointing a gun at her, but it’s been eating at me since the moment she told me. Still, I realize that right now, I need to focus on something more constructive than murder.
“Get dressed,” I announce as I push back from the table. “We’re going out.”
She looks up from her untouched eggs Benedict and asks, “Where?”
“You want to understand what I do for a living? I’m going to show you.”
“Maksim, I don’t think—”
